Sean Parker
What happens if you start to suspect that your relationship no longer works? Heading to Salem Horror Fest this weekend, Dane Elcar’s Brightwood explores one doomed couple’s attempt to break free from their meandering relationship and find themselves trapped in the woods with no way out. Brightwood creates a surreal horror portrait of monotony and dependency as the horror of being trapped and constrained can force two people to become their worst possible selves.
Brightwood begins with Jen (Dana Berger) and Dan (Max Woertendyke) running through the streets of their local neighborhood as Jen listens to a divorce podcast over her headphones. Struggling to keep speed, a winded Dan begs Jen for a conversation. After chastising his behavior at a party the night before, where Dan drank too much and tried to get her co-worker’s phone number, Jen decides she wants to run off the energy supplied by her anger. She tells Dan she’s going to run around the pond, and he can join her or return home. Trying to salvage their relationship, he follows her into the woods, but once there, the couple finds the trail they ran in on has vanished, and they’re stuck going around in circles around the pond over and over again.
But that’s not all. While physically bound to the location, the characters begin experiencing strange phenomena. A man running into Dan and disappearing, the presence of a tangled-up bunch of wired iPhone headphones that look a lot like Jen’s, and a dark hooded figure appearing and blocking the road. As they venture further into the story, they find themselves tripping into scenarios with other versions of themselves, not all of them particularly good.
Some will want to call Brightwood a time-loop film, which I suppose isn’t inaccurate. But it never really feels like Groundhog Day in the way it’s presented, specifically because plenty of paradoxical instances begin occurring after the couple starts to comprehend the situation. Not everything ties up into a nice looping bow, which is a part of Brightwood’s charm. The first film I thought of was Isaac Ezban’s The Incident, where a particular event causes a cataclysmic separation for the characters and the world they live in, forcing them to remain in the scene of the event until it spurs another. Brightwood never travels the same road as Ezban’s film, but many Twilight Zone-inspired ideas are at play in both. And, with Elcar’s world-stopping realization, as in The Incident, one moment of pure heartbreak becomes the catalyst.
Learning that Brightwood, Elcar’s first feature, was based on his 2018 short, The Pond, gave me a slight chuckle as I sat down to write my review. Not only did the director write a film about repetition, but he also remade his concept, possibly in the same location, adding a meta-level to Brightwood that’s somewhat poetic. The films are very similar, with Brightwood being the more dynamic, expanding the idea to two characters and creating additional drama and metaphors beyond the quick inferences in Elcar’s short.
The horror of Brightwood is very real, and I think that’s what I enjoy the most about the movie. Thematically, Brightwood is all about who we see ourselves as in our relationships. Jen and Dan get a first-hand look at who they are as their natures shift. Seeing things from an alternate perspective can do that, sometimes for better and others for worse. That sort of self-reflection allows them to stumble over the question, could they be killing the best parts of themselves by being in a toxically reliant relationship? As the film progresses, we see just how dark things can get.
Berger and Woertendyke do a lovely job of sparring back and forth, acting aloof, and showing the grading and the loving sides of a souring romance lying in listless complacency. If left on mute, Berger’s facial expressions alone could tell the story, while Woertendyke’s range from cringey dumbass to threatening presence and help cement Brightwood as a horror fable. The eerie score provided by Jason Cook forebodes and unsettles as it plays over contrasting images of a sunny day by the pond, helping you realize the couple is stuck in this summertime setting and revealing hell can be a lush, green place. Elcar’s had some practice shooting short films over the past six years, and his talent is well on display here. Considering the micro-budget Brightwood was made on, it’s hard to say this indie looks anything less than fantastic.
If I had any gripes about the movie, it was mostly in what I expected versus the actual film itself. The synopsis is short and sweet, saying, “A couple find themselves mysteriously trapped while on a run around a pond.” In that, I may have inferred a bit more of a comedic flair—sort of the sitcom bickering equivalent to a man unwilling to ask for directions on a road trip. To my credit, there is some bickering, but it’s sported by a far darker affair than I initially anticipated. There are also a few moments in the film where I kept wishing something more would happen as well, but for the most part, Brightwood is a well-made picture about fading love and what we endure to allow its longevity to continue. If you’re going to catch this at Salem Horror Fest this weekend, I suggest not bringing someone you may want to work out a strained relationship with.
